


Out of Focus

by Incognito_lol



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blindfolds, Choking, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Excessive Drinking, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fantasizing, Female Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Gunplay, Hickies, Humiliation, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Piss kink fyi yeah im sorry, Pregnancy Scare, Reader has a bad night: the fic, Reader-Insert, Robbery, Rough Sex, Sexy voicemails, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Voice Kink, Wetting, in which reader makes VERY BAD DECISIONS, voice kink 2: kink harder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incognito_lol/pseuds/Incognito_lol
Summary: You're an esteemed researcher at a small laboratory, coming back in late to get some work done. You’ve never liked being there alone at night, and this time, for some reason, the paranoia is even worse. As you briskly approach your office, hyper-aware of your surroundings and glancing anxiously behind you, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched...(Edit: Apologies for the huge wait, Currently working on ch.3 in my spare time! Holidays suck.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before we start, I should say that the male character here isn't actually an oc. He's a (very OOC here, lmao) canon char. from a series that I write for on another account. However that series tag is small and tight-knit enough to where if I posted this there, even from an alt, it would be obvious from the writing style that the author is me. So because I want to preserve my reputation and since I'm really embarrassed about this self-indulgent garbage porn I'm gonna play it safe and be a coward.
> 
> I wrote this with the “original work” tag in mind, so it should be readable by anybody whether they’re familiar with the source material or not. No names or important details are mentioned, virtually no canon lore is brought up, etc. It’s PWP through and through.
> 
> Hope yall like choking CAUSE I SURE DO. :^)

There was always something you disliked about coming to the Lab at night. You disliked many things, in fact. Any large building after hours had that effect - it was too quiet, too empty, and it made your hair stand on end. You knew you were a scaredy-cat when it came to this sort of shit, which was exactly the reason why whenever you were swamped you always took work home after you clocked out.

Tonight was not one of those nights. You were stuck with your dumb paranoia until you could duck into the comfortable safety of your office, which was, torturously, located on the fifth floor all the way at the other end of the main entrance. It was unsettlingly far from the 1st floor receptions desk where the night watch guy, Julian, usually hung out for his shift. He was gone but his things were there- he was probably on a smoke break or something. You made a mental note to call him once you got to your phone to let him know that you’d come in.

The elevator gave a _ding_ , and you sipped at the last of your coffee as you stepped onto your floor. At this time of night most of the building was on a power-saver mode, so only every fourth light was on, and not every fourth light was full of juice. A few of them flickered, the agitated buzz of dying fluorescent bulbs joining the hollow sound of your heels echoing against the linoleum, the volume of which seemed disproportionate in the otherwise dead silence. The low light, on top of everything else, wasn’t helping your nerves.

It was only contributing to the distinct feeling you had that you were being watched.

You glanced at a wall plaque as you passed it and felt your stomach drop as you could have sworn that you saw vague movement out of the corner of your eye. You whipped around to look behind but there was nothing to see- the far end of the hallway you just came from was suspiciously yet correctly dark and deserted.

An irate sigh escaped your nose and you threw your paper to-go cup in the trash before turning the corner. You were jittery because of the caffeine, that was all. It was a 16 oz. cup that you downed in under 30 minutes on an empty stomach, of course it would give your nerves a kick.

You expected to feel relief upon closing in on your office door, but instead the uneasy feeling only worsened, raising the hairs on your neck and making your heart pound. You began to walk faster, not daring to look behind you, praying that the quiet rustle you heard was only your skirt. You were already practically there, it would be fine, right? You reached a shaking hand to your shirt pocket to get your keycard as your other hand closed on your doorknob.

There was an instant in which some sort of extrasensory survival instinct screamed _‘somebody is actually behind you’_ before an arm wound itself around your neck and what was unmistakably the barrel of a gun nestled itself against your right temple. You drew air to scream before the arm tightened and cut you off you mid-breath, pulling you backwards against that _somebody_ ’s chest.

Your brain exploded in a panic and you began to struggle, but the deafening click of a safety being turned off echoed into your skull and you immediately stilled.

“Hey there, princess. Working late?” came a deep, rough voice above your left ear. You managed to turn your head a tiny bit, looking as far left as you could, but you... couldn’t see anybody? That can’t be right...

The need for air overrode that thought and you reached up and tugged weakly at the arm around your neck, craning your head back to try to breathe.

“Get in your office first, then I’ll give you air. Make a wrong move and you won’t be needing any.” The gun at your head twisted and the pure need for survival made you cave easily, nodding and removing your keycard from your shirt pocket, swiping it into the lock with a shaking hand. It gave an inappropriately cheerful beep and you stepped forward to open your door, your assailant stepping with you while not changing his hold. You both entered your office, the door slamming shut behind you.

The arm around your neck loosened and you gasped then released several lungfuls of air, before it tightened again, enough to hold firmly while barely allowing you to breathe.

“Lock your door. Keep the blinds closed.”

“What do you want?” You whispered as you both turned, clicking the push lock on the knob. You would give him your wallet and shit without hesitation, but the circumstances and location of this encounter left you with a sinking feeling that he wanted something specific.

 _Unless…_ You pushed the worst conclusion away from your thoughts, not wanting to make yourself panic too much.

“You’ll see. Get the lamp in the corner, no other lights. Then sit at your desk and log in.”

You both walked to your floorlamp to turn it on. As you made your way to your desk, he released you from the hold and lurked behind you as you sat down, moving the gun to the back of your head, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. You woke your computer from sleep and typed in your username and password, a depressing certainty brewing in your chest. He needed something from your team’s work, and you had a feeling it was that one particular project that was highly secretive and important. _Fuck_. This could cost everybody their jobs and salaries, this could make the whole facility shut down. Who the hell hired him?

You desperately hoped that Julian had caught him on the cameras and was calling the police or doing _something_. You didn’t have much time, and he could easily kill you once you weren’t useful anymore.

As he slid you a USB drive and instructed you to empty all your files from [x] folder into it and run its system-erasing program, you realized with a gut-punch of fear that you _definitely couldn’t see him_. There was no visible hand on your shoulder, no shadow that he cast on the floor next to you. Instead, where he would have been produced a slight warping, blurring effect in the air; you could see it if you squinted.

This was a cloaking device - very rare, very expensive, practically military-grade tech. This guy wasn’t just some lackey - whoever he was working with had _connections_. This was getting more and more serious by the second. Julian wouldn’t even be able to detect him unless he had paid very close attention to the cam right outside your door. You prayed that he did.

Your work files were now off your computer, and the wiping program was in progress. You stared angrily at the screen and tried to think of something you could do, anything, but he was armed, you (stupidly) didn’t know any self-defense or have any weapons of your own…

This guy had choked you with a single arm, you really didn’t think you could take him. Fuck, what were you going to do?

He spoke and brought you out of your thoughts. “You’re pretty cute, (Y/N). Got a boyfriend back home?”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of your name before you remembered that you had an easily visible nameplate on your desk. You tried not to think about the rest of his sentence.

“I don’t.” You replied curtly.

You gradually tensed as the hand on your shoulder started to brush up and down your arm. He was wearing gloves.

_No, no no no no. Don’t touch me, stop._

“Maybe we could get to know each other a little better, then. We’ve got time.” His voice was way too close to your ear, lilting with a practiced sensuality. A small, stupid part of your brain reacted to that and sent prickles down your spine. The Not Stupid rest of you was paralyzed in fear that the worst possible conclusion was becoming a reality.

“L-let’s not,” you protested, jumping in your seat as he leaned in and moved his lips against the crook of your neck in a slow kiss.

“You sure?” He hummed darkly, nuzzling a bit into the sensitive skin. His stubble made you flinch. “You’re awfully tense, a little TLC might do you good.”

You shook your head and tried to lean away from him to stand up. “Please, _please_ don’t. Take my money, my wallet, anyth- _nn-!_ ” your words died in a squeak as he shoved his gun harder into the back of your head, clicking the safety on and off in reminder. Your mouth went dry; you had forgotten it was there.

You both paused as your desk phone rang. Your heart leapt in joy before reality caught up to it.

“Answer it and repeat what I tell you.” He said, returning to all-business.

You swallowed and reached for the receiver.

“Julian?” You spoke, watching the air next to you blur and the the phone cradle’s [VOL +] button depress itself as the stranger raised it to its max so he could hear too.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Working late tonight?”

The stranger moved to your phone-free side and brushed his lips against your ear.

 _“Say yes.”_ he breathed.

“Yes, I am.” You say as calmly as you can, mentally seething in frustration. you couldn’t communicate a single fucking thing to Julian about what was going on. You were trapped.

“Great, I was getting some fresh air, so I guess I missed you when you arrived. I was alerted that your door lock was opened, and for a second I thought someone broke in.” Julian said, tone cheerful.

You screamed internally, blood boiling at the irony.

 _“It’s just you here. You’re gonna be here a while.”_ came your barely audible instructions. The lips at your ear started to wander and your grip on the receiver faltered.

“Nah, it’s just me. I’ll be-...” Your reply died as a hot tongue slid down your neck, making goosebumps erupt across your skin. You squirmed, trying to get away, but the hand on your shoulder tightened. “...-here a while.” you finished, praying that Julian would miraculously catch on that something was off, that you paused a second too long, that you sounded a little too quiet.

You held your breath as the stranger began to mouth lazily at your neck. The Stupid Part of your brain went haywire at this and you tried to ignore it the best you could. You wished so hard that you were stronger so you could deck him in the face.

“Alright. I might go make some coffee in a bit, do you want anything?” Julian asked.

 _“Get him off your back.”_ the stranger hissed, breath cold against the wet circles he was leaving on your skin. He nipped at a sensitive spot on the underside of your jaw and you jumped in shock, biting back a gasp, and you felt him _grin_. You cussed out this creep as loudly as you could in your head.

“ _N_ -no, thanks.” It took every ounce of willpower to keep your voice steady as he zeroed in on that spot. “I, um…downed a cup before coming here, so I’m all set.” You grit your teeth and shoved your free arm against his face to push him away, in retaliation he knocked the gun into your head hard enough to make you almost retch in pain. As you recovered his other hand gripped your chin and forced it back so he could latch onto that spot, rough and insistent, making your thoughts screech to a halt as heat flooded your system.

You wanted to scream at your own body to stop. This was horrifying, you hated every second of it.

“Let me know if you change your mind.” you dimly heard Julian, having almost forgotten you were still holding the phone. You winced as you were bitten and you knew this disgusting son of a bitch was getting impatient.

“Okay.” You muttered shakily.

“Cool. See ya around, then.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Uh-huh.”

You practically slammed the phone back on its cradle and gasped loudly, raking your hands through invisible hair, trying to get him off you. He bit harder and growled, the sound vibrating down your spine and stoking an obscene ache down low in your stomach, before finally letting go.

You sat there dazed and shivering, and your computer turning off and on brought your thoughts to the present. The wiping program had finished. All your files, and because of internet sync, most of the files of your entire team, were now gone.

You wanted to cry. This wasn't fair. You were about to turn to yell at him before some cloth was slipped over your eyes and tightened around your head, plunging your world into darkness.

“Hey-!” You reached up to remove it, but he caught your wrists and squeezed them painfully in warning.

“Camo needs to recharge. Can't have you knowing what I look like.” He explained. You realized he was talking about his cloaking device.

There was then a _clunk_ of the USB stick being removed, and you began to almost shake in rage.

“Get out, then!” You snarled. “You got what you wanted! I don't need any more of your bullshit!”

A gloved hand brushed up your neck and tilted your head back so that you were “looking” at him. ”I don’t think I'm done with you yet.”

Your anger abruptly boiled over. “Like _hell_ you’re not!” You inhaled and spat upwards. By the way he flinched, you knew with intense satisfaction that you hit your target.

Then the rest of your thought process caught up and you had about half a second to regret everything before the hand around your throat squeezed _hard_ and yanked you up out of the chair. You had time to take in a shallow, tiny gasp before you were turned to face him and a second hand joined the first and sealed your airway shut. You convulsed and clawed at his grip, white lights sparkling across the dark field of your vision.

 _‘I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I’m sorry’_ you mouthed, feeling your thoughts turn dull and your knees begin to give out. You were slowly lowered to sit on the floor and your back was pressed against what you guessed to be the short side of your desk.

“I think that ego of yours could use a little bruising, don’t you agree?” he said, low and dangerous. You absolutely hated how a wild, fleeting thought of _‘oh god, keep talking’_ wormed its way through your panicked mind.

The need for air made you nod enthusiastically and he let go. You grasped at your neck and heaved and coughed, every breath like fire. You heard him get to his feet in front of you, and a sinking feeling took hold. You knew how these sorts of things usually went. Still panting for air, you slowly tilted your head up to where you guessed his face was, reluctantly anticipating a hand in your hair and the sound of a belt and zipper.

But none came. You waited anxiously in silence, unsure of what to do.

“I saw you drinking coffee, on your way in here.”

That threw you for a loop. You made a face and blinked rapidly behind the blindfold in confusion.

“Uh, yes…?” You responded.

“Tell me, then,” you heard him shift then startled as the cold toe of his boot settled low on your stomach, a few inches below your navel. It was just touching, no weight applied. You shifted under it, already afraid. “How long's it been since you last took a piss?”

You paused for a few beats, confused and mildly disgusted, the unease got worse.

“Why are you- _nnnh_ -!”

His boot began to press down, and it was intensely, nauseatingly uncomfortable. Your breath shortened as you were greeted with a burning pressure, and as you instinctively clamped down on it the horrifying realization hit you that he's trying to get you to piss yourself.

No. God, no.

You can't do this. You won’t. You would rather be choked into unconsciousness. You moved to close your legs but his own was in the way, and you tilted your face up at him and frantically shook your head, shoving your hands against your vulva.

The boot lifted a little but the pressure remained.

“Hands off. Keep your legs open.” He said gruffly, and you set your jaw and parted your knees, slowly removing your hands from yourself.

“Wider.”

Your face flamed red as you obliged. Your skirt bunched up around your thighs and though you were wearing black tights, the position you were in was still embarrassing.

The boot pressed down again, hard, practically digging in, and you tossed your head back and whined brokenly through your teeth, legs shaking with the effort of holding it in. He eased up and you desperately shifted, trying to put the pressure elsewhere.

“I don't have to go!” You lied, voice shaking. “You’re just hurting me!”

“Explain to me why you're squirming so much, then. All that coffee had to go somewhere.” He started to cruelly jiggle his toe on that one spot and you curled around his leg in silent agony, punching at his calf, trying to get him off of you.

“Do you want an incentive?” The boot disappeared and you heard him crouch in front of you. A hand grasped your thigh and hiked your leg up and you were left breathless as you felt cold metal press against your groin.

Shit.

The gun glided down your slit and pressed itself firm over your clothed entrance, pushing your tights and panties inward. Your breath caught and you tensed.

“Hey, hey, don’t-...” you said, taking his wrist. “I'm gonna do it okay? Just let me- _ah-”_ the barrel twisted as he pushed it further, and you felt a hot stretch as it started to go inside. “S-stop, damn it, I'm being serious!” You just wanted that thing away from you at all costs.

“Alright, just making sure.” He hummed, moving the gun in several shallow thrusting motions before he finally withdrew it. You trembled with adrenaline and took several breaths, trying to relax enough to make anything happen, but it was like that muscle refused to open.

You felt him shift closer and fingers touched directly over your bladder and started to press. Your heart leapt into your throat but you forced yourself not to pull away as the pressure built. You squirmed as urine escaped you in a trickle, still too much tension in your body to allow for any more.

“It’s not-...It’s not coming, I don’t know-”

The fingers began to massage in slow circles. “Just relax and it will. You’ll be okay, I’m right here.” he murmured, using this gentle tone that made you sick to your stomach, but you had to get this over with.

You relaxed a little and were about to try again when he pressed down hard, making you squeak as a gush of urine escaped, then tapered off to a steadily growing stream that you tried desperately to clamp down on but couldn’t stop. The release of tension sent chills through your entire body and you shivered in confused pleasure. Heat trapped itself against your vulva and spread down your thighs onto the floor as it soaked through your tights. It was a horrible cocktail of mixed signals, both blissful and disgusting at once, and all you could do was sit and ride it out, completely out of control of yourself.

“Good girl, that’s it...” he purred into your ear, and you bit the inside of your cheek as that phrase, or perhaps just the way it was said, hit something inside you and made your clit give an honest-to-goodness _throb_.

No, you really, _really_ didn’t want to think about how any of this could be erotic. He wasn’t helping.

“Damn,” He breathed, as you finished. “Look at all that, didn’t think you could hold so much-”

“ _-Shut the fuck up!_ ” You spat. Humiliation hit you like a bolt and you started to cry, shaking with quiet sobs as your tears caught on the blindfold and made it wet.

He laughed, ignoring you. “That’s nasty, pissing yourself just cause a stranger asks you to.” His tone got huskier as he started to grope at your hips and waist. “I bet that felt good, made you a little hot under the collar.” You recoiled as he pressed a thumb to you through your soaked tights and massaged your aching clit. It felt disturbingly good and you had to swallow back a groan. “Pretty disgusting if you get off to that. No wonder you don't have a boyfriend.”

You shoved him away. “- _I'm_ getting off to it?! You're the one who _-_...!”  You stopped yourself. There was no point.

“Hey,” his hands framed your face, brushing stray tears away. “Don’t cry, ok? C’mere and let me make it up to you, I'll make you feel real good.” He pulled you to your feet and you stiffened but let him, wanting to get out of that puddle more than anything. Your dignity was already torn to pieces, you might as well just play along and hope you don't get hurt. Eventually, he'll be done with you, and it'll be over.

He turned you and walked you backwards and your lack of sight made you scared until you were seated in your chair, your hips pulled forward as he tugged your skirt off, tossing it on the floor somewhere. He then hooked fingers into your waistband and drew your tights and panties down your legs.

“Wish you could keep these on,” he muttered, and you heard the soiled garments plop onto the ground to your left.

He pushed your knees up to your chest and you shifted, cheeks coloring at the position. You waited in uneasy silence, then tensed when warm breath fanned over the inside of your thigh.

“Why would you...That's disgusting, I just- _a_ \- _ahh-_ ” you protested, cut off as his tongue abruptly swathed up the length of you, pushing hard enough to part your folds. You squirmed, sparks rocketing down your spine, and you reflexively tried to kick at the side of his head.

A hand shot out and grabbed your throat, lightly squeezing, making you still.

“I don't have to be this nice. I've got my teeth an inch from the most sensitive part of your body.” He said, voice low. In a panic you tried to pull away from him as lips settled over your clit, but you had nowhere to go. “...Unless, you _like_ the idea of mind-numbing pain, bleeding all over the floor...” He spoke directly against you and you cringed as you felt his incisors brush it with each consonant.

“Nonono, I-I'm fine!” You almost went lightheaded with relief as he drew back. “Just don’t be rough. Please.” you finished weakly, heart pounding.

“If you behave.”

“I will.” You whispered.

You barely had time to take a breath before your whole body seized in response to another warm, wet press of his tongue, making your back arch off the chair. He lathed it over your clit in ways that had you shivering, the feeling magnified by the fact that you couldn't see. You hissed when he closed his mouth over it to give it several long, slow kisses, sucking as he pulled off.

“Mmm, so sensitive,” he murmured. His thumb pressed on your clit and rubbed upwards, pulling back the hood. A faint discomfort ran through your legs as the most delicate part of it was exposed to the open air. Your heart quickened and you tensed, bracing yourself for pain. You startled hard and whimpered when instead something wet (saliva?) dripped directly onto it. He laughed quietly at your over-reaction and tugged you closer, making you slouch down further in the chair.

“Why’re you scared? You've got no reason to be.” he hummed, tone mocking. You scowled and didn't respond.

His tongue slid down your slit and circled over your entrance a few times before wriggling its way inside, massaging against your walls. He groaned deeply at your taste, your senses went fuzzy at the vibration and you unconsciously rolled your hips into his face. He held you down and pulled you harder against him, going as deep as he could. You clenched around him and he exhaled and dug his nails into you in response, tongue-fucking you for a bit, licking up all your juices.

He pulled back and you both caught your breath for a few seconds before you were suddenly filled by two fingers, thrusting and scissoring and making you toss your head to the side, biting your lip hard.

“Listen to that.” A few pumps of his fingers produced obscene noises from between your legs. “Already this wet and eager, practically pulling me in, you just might secretly like me.”

You couldn't retort because his fingers pushed deep and curled, nudging a spot that had all your breath rushing out in a cry. You clapped your hands against your mouth and continued to whine into them as he tapped at it, causing pleasure to shoot up your spine with each touch.

Your squirming made the blindfold slip a tiny bit and over your mound you could see choppy brown hair falling over a straight brow. Your assailant looked up and you saw a glimpse of pale blue before he bit hard into your thigh, enough to make you nearly scream.

“No peeking.” he warned. You shakily tugged the blindfold back down.

His lips circled your nub again as his fingers stayed buried to the hilt, rubbing firm at that cluster of nerves as he rolled his tongue over you. He gave a rumbling sigh and your legs trembled, your hands flew to his head as a gasp of “More,” exited you before you could think.

He let you go with a smack. “What was that?” He said smugly, not stopping his hand.

Fucking asshole. You grit your teeth and tugged at his hair. “ _Please._ ”

“Better,” he mumbled, before sealing your bud into his mouth again, giving it a few slow pulls that had you shaking as your nails dug into his scalp. He liked that attention, he tilted his head forward against your hands and growled and it made your eyes roll back, another push of his fingers had heat and pressure rapidly coiling in your stomach. So close.

But there was something distracting you, something was starting to seem wrong, all his attentions were giving you a feeling that had you clamping down on the sudden urge to piss. But that didn't make sense, you had already (ugh) emptied yourself, but this pressure was different from a normal climax, hot and unmistakable-

Until you realized. It didn’t happen often, but you knew what that feeling meant. What horrible timing.

You weakly tried to push him away. “W-wait, hang on-...!”

You shrieked as he ignored you and doubled his efforts, molten heat concentrated itself right above his fingers and you wanted to think of something else, anything but what he was doing but another firm suck had you seeing white and you bucked up against his face as the heat shoved itself down and out. Through your climax you dimly registered a gush and he grunted in surprise and pulled back. As you came down, you pressed your hands over your face in mortification, pushing through the haze of pleasure to try to say something.

“That was an accident, I swear-” You gasped.

“You're one of _those_ girls, huh? Lucky me.” His hand alighted on your thigh again and you jerked, over-sensitive as he licked you up, tongue curling against your urethra as if he could get more. You made a noise of discomfort and tried to push him away, and he threw an arm over your hips to hold you down.

“You’d better figure out how to do that again, cause I want all of it.” He inserted two fingers again and began to press them up and down, going harder and harder. “You’re gonna get wrung _dry_.” he threatened, slamming his hand upward for emphasis.

Sparks jolted into you and you gasped for air. He was being way too rough, it was borderline painful, you couldn't get anywhere close to cumming again like this. You couldn't form any words of protest and only panted, attempting to pry his arm off from across your hips. Nails dug into your side deep enough to break skin and you let go immediately, resolve splintering.

He was outright abusing your g-spot at this point, pushing hard against it and giving you no time to recover. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as a burning feeling settled between your legs, too hot, too much. Your thighs were starting to cramp. You needed for it to end, you needed release, but you had hit a wall.

He dragged his tongue over your clit and you twitched as he latched on, a hard suck and a long hum made you claw at his shoulders and yell as traces of sharp pleasure managed to slip through everything else and then _finally_ grow.

He added a third finger and it felt so good, against your better wishes you pictured how it must feel to have his cock inside you and that sent hot tingles throughout your entire body, pushing you closer, so achingly close.

“C'mon,” He growled impatiently, increasing his pace, hammering into that spot with merciless precision. “C'mon c'mon _c’mon-_ ”

Your only warning was the feeling of breath before he scraped his teeth up against your clit, forcing back the hood again, holding it between his incisors and applying the slightest pressure. You convulsed as pain-pleasure hit you like a bullet, and maybe it said something about you that the idea of him biting clean through was what did you in. Your brain shut off and your thighs clamped around his head as you came hard in a small spray of fluid. He moved his tongue down and caught most of it, groaning in satisfaction.

He ran his hands along your thighs. “Fuck, that's intoxicating. Your ex doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

You caught your breath as you slouched forward, muscles in your legs and stomach twitching from the strain they were just put under.

“On your feet, princess. Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.” You were pulled forward off the chair but you felt like jelly and could only slump into his arms, exhausted. He laughed quietly and put an arm under your butt to carry you as he stood. You had spaced out completely until you were laid back onto your desk and only then did you begin to wake up, and you cursed in your head because you knew what was coming next, but you were too tired to feel angry.

He started to kiss and bite at your neck as his hands deftly worked to undo your shirt buttons and push up your bra. You whimpered and arched against him and he ground his hips into yours. Through his pants you felt every thick inch of him and you shook your head, hit with nervous apprehension. Though you were soaked through, you still hadn’t had sex in a while so this was probably going to hurt.

“Shhh, it's okay. I'll go easy.” he murmured against your jaw. You didn't know whether to believe him or not.

He stood up and through the frantic thump of your heart you heard a belt and zipper. He took your leg in hand and raised it, resting your ankle on his shoulder. “Just relax, and I'll take _real, good, care_ of ya.” You shivered at the way his voice roughened and lingered on those three words.

The tip of his cock brushed against your opening before pushing just a little, and you startled and shot out a hand against his torso to stop him.

“Do I need the gun?” he said way too calmly as he pushed further, you couldn’t think of a reply and just threw your head back and gasped for air as you were opened. It would have been more manageable if you weren’t sore from his previous attentions, but he was hot and thick and the stretch felt like a burn, like fire was being shoved into you.

“No, sir!” You barely managed to answer, not having the mental capacity to cringe at your word choice.

He liked that, it made his dick throb and he hissed quietly through his teeth, caressing up and down your sides. “You’re so good,” Came his whispered praise as he went further, but more slowly. “So good… Goddamn.”

Your nerves were buzzing with the beginning tendrils of pleasure and you rolled your hips, a low noise escaping your throat as it made him brush up against a tender spot. You were desperate to get something out of this, whether you were supposed to enjoy it or not. Morality didn’t matter when you were too strung out to even think.

You both sighed as he bottomed out inside you, pausing for a few seconds to adjust.

“Bit of a tight fit,” he breathed, settling one hand on your shoulder and the other on your raised leg. He was taking his time and it was getting irritating.

You grit your teeth and impatiently rolled your hips again. “Come on, _move._ ”

A dull stab of pain made you wince as he purposefully humped into your cervix. “I’ll take as long as I want, princess. Keep complaining and I'll use your mouth instead.”

He began thrusting with these long, teasingly slow movements, pulling almost all the way out before filling you back up. It created a steady tension that kept tingling hotly up your spine and through your extremities, reducing your brain to mush. You moaned breathily with each push in and lolled your head to the side, digging your nails into his wrists.

You felt him lean down and his lips brushed your cheek. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

You shut your mouth (when had you opened it?) and held your breath, not wanting to dignify him with an answer.

“No? Are you sure?” He crooned into your ear, burying himself deep and grinding. You abruptly forgot to hold your breath. “You've had goosebumps for the past minute. I must be hitting all your favorite places.”

“Shut up and fuck me.” You panted.

His gun dug into the hollow of your throat. “Watch it.” He said lowly.

“ _Please!_ Please please please _-_ ”

“-Please, what?” he growled, clicking the safety on and off.

“Please fuck me, sir!”

He buried his face into your neck and gave a lusty purr, running the cold metal down your body. “Mhmmm, there's a good girl. Such proper manners, how can I say no to that?” Chills ran through you at his heady tone and you couldn't stop a sigh.

He raised himself up off you a little and picked up a pace, sending air out of your lungs with each sharp thrust. You raised your arms over your head and hung them off the desk, your breaths turning more vocal as he hit a sensitive spot.

“Getting fucked's a good look on you, princess.” A gloved hand roamed up your stomach and cupped your breast. “All laid out and opened up for me, arching your back and making such pretty little noises…”

You pulled a face at him which quickly melted away as he snapped his hips, stoking a tight knot of heat that demanded your attention. He inserted two fingers into your open mouth and depressed your tongue, you tensed and pushed it against them in an attempt to force them out, yet it did little to help. He hummed and slid them further back and you tilted your head and panted shortly around his hand, trying to control your breathing to prevent from gagging. It was hard with the way he was driving into you.

He brushed firm against your g-spot again and you squeezed your eyes shut and whined into his fingers, in response they squished and massaged at your tongue, making drool run down your cheek. It was embarrassing and you were glad you couldn’t see him watching you, but it’s not like that was a good thing, either.

You huffed and gripped at his wrist, then onto his shoulders because you had to hold onto something, but his other hand scooped up your wrists and pinned them above your head. He leaned forward and the changed angle had your voice raising again, clenching your walls around him.

“So dirty,” He rasped. “Loving every second of being a cockslut for a complete stranger. You already got horny from pissing yourself and then came twice all over me, and yet here you are, just _aching_ for more.” He inhaled through his teeth and sighed. “You're insatiable.”

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you really were aching, it was this _itch_ deep inside you that had started off as a tiny, shameful “what-if” when he first started to flirt and grew quickly out of control into flat-out _need_. It was an itch that he was now scratching rough and thorough, and it was disturbingly sexy. You could hate it as much as you wanted, but through cruel, bitter irony, the more you hated it the better the ‘scratch’ got. There was no way out.

And he knew that.

He finally removed his fingers from your mouth to grip at the edge of the desk to go harder and you threw your head back as your noises climbed in pitch, and started to sound pornographic. You didn’t have hands free to cover your mouth to prevent that embarrassing shit from escaping.

It was hard to even _be_ embarrassed. There was too much heat flooding your senses and dulling your thoughts, constricting your awareness to a single point between your legs. It was too good.

“You seem to be getting light-headed. You did lose a lot of fluids, I could replace them.” You could hear his grin as his voice lowered. “Want for me to cum inside? Leave you with a hot little reminder that you're always gonna be mine?”

Ice cold fear drenched you and you thrashed against him with renewed vigor. “ _No! No, no, no, no- Don’t! You can’t-!”_

You were cut off as a hand slotted under your jaw and pressed you hard into the desk. “-Too _bad_.” he said through grit teeth. “You're taking all of me whether you want to or not, fucking prude.” He began to squeeze, and panic seized you as breathing became more and more difficult.

“ _St-_ ... _Nn_ -...” You managed, digging your nails into his hand, trying to pull him off.

“Want me to let up? Start talking.” The hand loosened a fraction and you twitched and rattled in a painful breath. “Tell me how much you love my cock.”

Air was greater than pride. You tried your best to think and order words.

“I love it s-so much, It’s so- _hhh-_ ” He rolled his hips and you paused for a second to collect yourself. “- so good, I can't get enough...”

“Yeah? And what do you want me to do?”

“F-fuck me harder, I want more-” You swallowed, making his hand rise and fall. White speckles started to pulse at the edges of your vision and you couldn’t remain calm. “Please, I'll do whatever you want, I’ll even let you cum inside me! _Please_ -...” You grit your teeth and tugged at his hand again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl, take some breaths.” He let go and allowed you to wheeze in air. He slowed a bit and you went limp, your head clearing and limbs tingling as things returned to normal.

And then he pressed down again, fucking you hard, and you jerked beneath him in shock. “You said- you'd- let go!” You gasped, hitting his shoulder.

“I just did.” He said darkly, bracing a knee onto the desk for leverage.

And then you couldn’t breathe.

It would’ve been frightening if you weren’t so distracted. The added tension heightened every other sense, sending euphoria through your veins with each of his thrusts, you were getting so close, to the point that your body was taut and your head was swimming. You detached one of your hands from your neck and rubbed wantonly at your clit, jaw working soundlessly at the fresh pleasure that brought. You could last maybe a minute without air like this - maybe if you came fast enough, he would stop choking you.

You twitched as a jolt ran through you and brought you higher, and the movement made the blindfold slip again. You glanced up at the figure looming over you and could make out the bottom half of his face. He seemed handsome- his hair was longer in the back, almost shoulder-length, and he had a short stubbly beard. You watched him lick slowly along his bottom lip and show you several teeth in a predatory grin as he adjusted his hand and squeezed along the sides of your neck instead of the front, making your vision shift out of focus before you could pick out any more details.

 _‘Oh.’_  You thought to yourself, realizing what was happening as energy seemed to drain from you faster than before. ‘ _He’s cutting off blood as well as air.’_ Your sense of touch faded alarmingly fast along with the heat between your legs. You tried to struggle, but you couldn’t tell where your limbs were. You couldn’t see anything, either, except a gaussian blur of color.

_He’s killing me. I’m going to die._

You began to feel a little like you were falling into the desk, blackness crept into the edges of your field of view and shrank it into a tunnel, narrowing in time with your heartbeat. There was a ring in your ears that was distorting into static, your hands dropped away from yourself and your eyes started to roll back in your head-

You were floating in the dark, so exhausted, so tired. You blinked several times, eyelids heavy. Why was your heart beating this hard, again? You felt so warm, and tingly, and relaxed, it shouldn’t be doing that. Maybe you should just ignore it… and sleep...

 

He let go.

Your throat opened and something cold rushed into your lungs before consciousness slammed into you like an electric shock. You seized and gasped as all the feeling and tension you had lost flooded back in, concentrated hot and intense between your legs and along your spine. Amid the sensory overload you remembered that someone was having sex with you and in desperation to get rid of this tension you clawed blindly at them and hugged your thighs around them, needing them to go deeper, harder. You didn’t know or care who they were because you were _right there,_ you _needed this,_ and with one last stroke they were bringing you over.

A hand slipped over your mouth and you wailed into it as you came, arching your back and shuddering in bliss, clamping hard around the dick buried inside you in what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life.

As you came down, you noticed that whoever was fucking you was also close, panting and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. God, did he sound sexy- all husky and deep and breathless, it was giving you goosebumps. You could listen to him all day.

“Beautiful… so fucking gorgeous… what an angel…” he breathed, before digging his nails into your hips as his thrusts became erratic. You reached for him, pressing him closer and tangling your fingers into his hair, scratching along his scalp. You jumped and moaned when he sunk his teeth into your neck as he climaxed.

His cock throbbed as his cum painted your insides and filled you, white-hot and thick. He rumbled against you as his shaking hands caressed your waist and ground you down harder onto him, rubbing at your g-spot in a way that made your eyelids flutter. He slowly let you go and caught his breath as he ran his tongue along his bite marks, then tucked his head into your shoulder and heaved a long sigh as he finished.

He slowly pulled out. You whined at the loss and felt a warm puff of air against your clavicle as he laughed once. A few drops of cum trickled out and ran over your asshole. It was a little gross, but you were so satisfied, you didn't care. You only wished you were a little more comfortable, because your desk was starting to dig into your spine.

...Your desk…?

_Oh._

_Oh my god._

Your eyes snapped open and all color fled from your face as you remembered that no, you _weren’t_ on the pill in some hotel room with a one-night stand-

You shrieked and frantically shoved and kicked at him, he grunted and moved away and you tried to sit up, but you were exhausted, your muscles weren't yet working properly. Nauseating fear swept over you as you noticed how warm and wet your insides were and you pushed repeatedly, trying to get his cum out. Some of it escaped and splattered on the floor, but the rest was too deep in. You fell back onto the desk, taking sharp, panicked gasps of air.

In front of you, you heard a belt and zipper. “You don't have to freak out like that. I'm sterile.”

You stilled, looking at where you guessed he was. Searing rage bubbled in your chest. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to do so much more than just hurt him.

But you didn't have the energy, you could barely even feel your legs. You simply rolled to your side and looked at the wall as you descended into some kind of numb shock, not sure how to process anything that had just happened. You couldn't even recoil as he stepped by your head and you felt a hand brush through your now messy hair, detangling it some.

“You tried to kill me,” you said quietly, tears forming.

He snorted. “No, I didn't. I knew exactly when to let go.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against your forehead. “You’re tougher than you look, I'm impressed. Besides, it made both of us feel good, so what was the harm?” There was a sneery edge to his words. He knew exactly what the ‘harm’ was.

You seethed in disgust and clawed blindly at his face, two of your manicured nails caught on his cheek and split skin open. He retaliated by yanking your hair forward then back, slamming your head hard into your desk, and stars exploded behind your eyes. As you lay there, dazed and fighting the urge to vomit, you felt the blindfold slip off.

“I'll be taking that,” he said calmly, and you glanced at him but he had disappeared again, you could only see a blurry outline.

“Get out.” You whispered, curling into yourself, shuddering as more of his warm cum oozed out of you. You didn't want to think about how satisfied you felt. You didn't want to think about how much you might have enjoyed that. You wanted him gone. “I gave you what you wanted. _Get out_.”

“I’d say it's the other way around.” he hummed. You saw your door open. “You want my number? We could do this again.”

“GET OUT!!” You screamed, getting enough strength to hurl a stapler across the room. But the door closed before it could reach him, and it merely crashed into the blinds, falling uselessly onto the floor. You heard him laugh a bit from the other side.

You slumped back onto your desk. Every single one of your muscles was sore. Your neck _hurt,_ you could barely swallow, you knew there would be ugly bruises all along it, and your head swam from the near-concussion you had just received. You weren't sure how many other potential injuries you had. Black spots had been dancing in front of your eyes for a few minutes now, and you found it harder and harder to think clearly.

You weren't sure how long you laid there, fighting to stay awake, before you realized what you _should_ be doing and you shakily reached over to your phone, dialing the front desk. You heard it pick up.

“(Y/N)?”

“Julian,” Your voice was so quiet you weren't sure he could hear. “Someone was here.”

“What? You mean someone broke in? Are you okay?!” he sounded alarmed and you heard a keyboard clatter.

Your grasp on consciousness slipped further and you forgot to reply.

“(Y/N), are you okay?!” he repeated.

“...Can you take me home?” You whispered deliriously.

You didn't hear any answer because you had dropped into a black, hazy sleep.

 

~~~~~~

ok lmao I hope you guys liked that bc boy was that fun to write.

Since this turned out to be weirdly popular (thank u!!) I want to do an interest check for a chapter 2, where reader-chan goes and finds our mystery boy and puts him in his place (and he loves it, so unfortunately for her its not *real* revenge lmfao).

Thank you for reading and enjoying this~! (⌒▽⌒)☆


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have one new message."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya cause I didn't say it in the first chap, every single word of this is pure fantasy and is written for the express purpose of being pure fantasy. So even though this chapter in particular might feel uncomfortably analogous to reality to some people, I wouldn’t wish this on anybody IRL, and this doesn’t reflect my IRL views either. Kay? Kay.
> 
> Also the formatting on this could def be stronger. Let me know if the paragraphs are too big (especially on mobile) so I can cut em up and make them easier to read.

You woke up to Julian’s hands framing your face, and you leaned into them as your name spilled tense and scared from his lips. You vaguely remember telling him you wanted to go home, and he kept saying no, something about a hospital, something about the police. You were pulled to your feet and leaned heavily on him before everything went fuzzy again.

You emerged from shock while laying in the backseat of his car, wrapped in his jacket. You realized why you were naked from the waist down, and you shoved your face into the fold of the carseat and cried.

You were checked into the hospital where your injuries were tended to and you stayed overnight, unable to sleep, thinking.

One night was plenty of time to think, to erect several walls of numbness around yourself so that you didn’t have to think after today, or feel, or remember. You knew in your heart that this was the worst possible thing you could do, that this would wear on your psyche, that you couldn’t keep this up forever.

Too late. You didn’t care anymore.

 

This detached version of yourself was called in to an intensive meeting with your boss a few days later about legal proceedings. You both decided unanimously that the company as its own unit would base the investigation around data theft instead of the far more personal option that had you as the victim. Police and P.Is would take it much more seriously, they would move much faster, et cetera…

The bruises around your throat ached. You flipped the collar of your jacket up and ignored them.

You acted so normal in that meeting that it even unnerved your boss, who tentatively asked you if you were okay, if you were sure you wanted to even keep working there. You nodded, smiling, empty inside.

While they sorted that out, you were let go into a paid sick-leave that you were told could be “as long as you needed”. You politely refused and said that you would rather work from home, and work you did. You sat at your computer for sometimes up to twelve hours a day and dove into re-creating and recovering those files with abandon, just to have something to do, anything to distract yourself.

It wasn’t as easy while you were asleep. After having an intense nightmare that was made even more horrific when you awoke from it mid-climax, you began setting alarms to wake you every hour so that you weren’t able to properly enter a dream state. It made you exhausted, but it worked.

The bruises began to fade. Maybe everything was eventually gonna be okay.

Except it wasn’t.

 

A dull buzz resonating through your mattress roused you from sleep one night and you forced your eyes open, then closed them again against the assault of your phone screen light. You felt for it and squinted to lower the brightness to something less painful.

This wasn’t an alarm. You instead had an incoming call from a number you didn’t recognise... at 3 in the morning? Who the hell would be on the phone at this hour? You frowned at it and slowly hit the power button to reject it. Even automated calls usually happened during the day, so who could it be?

...Whatever. You were too tired to really worry about it. You dropped your phone back on your mattress and began to drift off.

 

It buzzed again, startling you awake. Frowning, you snatched it up and glared at the voicemail icon. What kind of person leaves a nine-minute long message...?

It felt too annoying now for you to ignore any longer so you tapped at your voicebox and turned onto your side to be more comfortable, listening to the heading as you sleepily leaned your cheek on your arm.

 

_“You have one new message:”_

_“Hey, Princess. How’s it going?”_

Your eyes snapped open,

and you _knew_.

It was like being dropped into ice water, freezing the air in your lungs and practically stopping your heart. All tiredness fled your frame as you bolted to sit upright, swearing and yanking the phone away from yourself in terror.

...Though you didn't do that last part. Your brain told you to, but for some reason your body refused to follow suit. The phone stayed glued to your ear.

 _“I don’t think you’ll need an introduction from me.”_ A smile crept into his voice. _“We’re both pretty... intimately familiar with each other, after all.”_

You blushed to the roots of your hair and shuddered in disgust, hard enough to make your earring clack against the screen. _Hang up,_ You told yourself, trying not to panic. _Just hang up. You don’t need to listen to this._

Your hand began to shake, and that was the only movement it seemed capable of.

 _“Shame you didn’t answer, I called because I was hoping to hear that cute voice of yours again. Though,”_ There was a quiet huff of laughter. _“I’m pretty sure if you did, you’d just have cussed me out, told me what a horrible person I am, how I ruined your life, or whatever. That’s fair, I won't deny any of that.”_ He said, sounding far too amused for the subject matter.

 _“Or maybe…”_ His inflection grew more serious. _“You wouldn’t say anything, not sure what to do, wrestling with yourself on whether you should hang up or keep listening.”_

Your stomach did a flip at the accuracy and you quickly checked to see that you weren’t somehow in a call. Just a voicemail, but that didn’t help the nerves.

 _“Anyway, I snagged your number from those files you so generously gave me, remember those? I’m sure that loss is giving you and your colleagues quite the headache.”_ A pause. _“Hmm, maybe I should go back and check if your address is in there,”_ He mused, in a tone that was as flirtatious as it was frightening. _“So I could come help distract you from all that stress. Would you want that?”_

That was a real enough threat to force you back into rational thought. You made a panicked noise and frantically jammed the END CALL button, throwing the device away from you as quick as you could. It _thunk_ ed against the carpet, causing the screen light to whip haphazardly around as it bounced. The phone settled, and you were left with only that harsh rectangle of light and sound of your own shallow breathing as company. You swallowed thickly and rubbed at your arms, trying to shove down the bile in your throat.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

This couldn’t be happening.

You already had so much to deal with what with work and the investigation, and now _this_? A reminder that you still weren’t safe, that he, whoever he was, wasn’t just a concept but a real person that still existed within your life, actively seeking you out even now?

Your phone light seemed to be taking too long to turn off. You closed your eyes but the screen had already burned itself onto your retinas, refusing to go away.

How appropriate.

You flopped back onto your mattress and stayed there for a while as you tried to calm down, failing to ignore the lingering feeling of (warm, so warm) hands all over your legs and waist, around your throat. The memory was still so real, just like the person behind it.

The person whose voice was now within the confines of your phone’s mailbox. You lifted your head and peeked at it, lying not-that-innocently on the floor.

You must have been exhausted beyond reason because there was a small part of you that wanted to go back and take a listen. You grimaced and tried to rationalize that curiosity away. This was no doubt a move from him to still assert control over you, maybe even to try to scare you out of pursuing an investigation, and listening to it would just give him the attention he wanted.

...Would it, though? It’s not like you’re gonna call him back...

You cut that thought short and shook your head at yourself, pressing your palms tiredly into your eyes. You weren’t thinking straight. This wasn't a normal voicemail by any stretch of the imagination. It was by a violent rapist - _your_ rapist - who had just dropped hints that he was stalking you. Nothing about this should be handled lightly - you were in danger, you needed to spare yourself from whatever was in that recording and just go to the police instead. Maybe they could trace the phone, or maybe he had let some info slip that they could use.

...Maybe you could get the info yourself and report it…?

_Don’t even try to come up with an excuse. You know why you want to listen._

You tugged at your hair in stress. This wasn’t a good idea. You felt sick from just thinking about it, but for some horrible reason your legs moved automatically and you stood up and walked towards your phone, heart pounding.

_What the hell are you doing?_

You reached down to pick it up.

_You’re going to regret this._

It was unlocked and the dial menu was opened.

_It’ll just make you feel worse._

You touched at the voicemail icon and crawled back into bed, self-consciously putting the covers over your head as it rang, feeling like you were being judged by a thousand invisible eyes.

_You’re pretty sick in the head, aren’t you? No wonder you enjoyed it._

That last thought made you curl up into a ball as you listened to the heading for the second and hopefully the final time.

 

_“You have one saved message:”_

_“Hey, Princess. How’s it going? I don’t think you’ll need an introduction from me. We’re both pretty intimately familiar with each other, after all._

_Shame you didn’t answer, I called because I was hoping to hear that cute voice of yours again. Though, I’m pretty sure if you did, you’d just have cussed me out, told me what a horrible person I am, how I ruined your life, or whatever. That’s fair, I won't deny any of that._

_Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything, not sure what to do, wrestling with yourself on whether you should hang up or keep listening._

_Anyway, I snagged your number from those files you so generously gave me, remember those? I’m sure that loss is giving you and your colleagues quite the headache. Hmm, maybe I should check if your address is there, so I could come help distract you from all that stress. Would you want that?”_

His pace of words was slower now, more deliberate. _“You've been quite the distraction, yourself. Slinking your way through my thoughts, always when I have important shit to do. Makes it pretty difficult to focus on work, since my mind keeps wandering... and wandering…”_ He muttered, letting the last word drag out in a way that the ever-present Stupid Part of your brain lapped right up.

Ashamed, you passed a hand through your hair and curled into yourself further. You had an idea of where this was going and you could only wait to be proven right. _Or not,_ piped up the weakening rational voice in your mind. _Don’t subject yourself to this. Hang up._

The phone didn't move.

 _“My job has me familiar with all sorts of illegal shit. Theft, forgery…”_ He trailed off slightly. _“...Murder. But I don’t do crimes of passion, believe it or not. So just what kind of spell did you put on me, to make me cross over on my own code like that?”_ His tone was getting breathier. _“Maybe you caught me in a bit of a weak spot. Maybe I was feeling lonely. You floated by and just drew me in. You were so cute, and tempting, and... wet...”_ A slow inhale, and the next sentence came contained in a rough purr that practically massaged your inner ear: _“Makin’ it hard to keep my hands off myself.”_

Your hunch was right. You blushed furiously as you lowered your phone volume as much as you could, but that didn’t make his mic any less sensitive. Every bit of background audio came through and made mental images impossible to ignore- that soft sound as he ran a hand down his bare chest and stomach, his breaths gaining a small hitch here and there as he pressed a palm to himself through his clothes, teasing, dipping fingers under his waistband to tug it down...

This faceless monster of a man, pleasuring himself and talking through it, recording it, all just for you.

You found your mouth watering, whether from lust or nausea it was hard to tell.

 

 _“I miss you so much, (Y/N),”_ He crooned, every word dripping with sex. _“I miss having my mouth and hands all over you. Skin so soft you just wanna dig your nails and teeth in, bite and pull and squeeze… I got hooked so quick and I knew I just had to have you, even if it risked my job or if someone walked in… All you needed was a little convincing before you let me get nice and deep in there, get to know you and all your favorite spots, all the places that so ached for attention…”_ A hissing inhale, a vocal sigh that creeped down your spine and settled low.

You had a hand over your mouth in flustered shock as you uselessly continued to hit the ‘volume down’ button, shivering despite how hot and stifling it was starting to get under the covers. That heat was seeping its way into you, taking residence in far more distracting places than your cheeks and ears.

_“Say you hated it all you want but I know how you really felt, I could feel every twitch and shiver run along that gorgeous body as I worked you open with my fingers and tongue, even more when you took my cock so beautifully, wrapped around me all snug and warm…”_

You muttered a curse, The memory sending desperate need crawling across your skin at the same time that fight-or-flight adrenaline sounded off too many alarm bells to count. This was _so_ wrong, so much worse than just some kinky taboo (It made you want to run out of bed and double check your locks, get a new phone, move to a different place, cut all your your hair off and dye it. _Please protect yourself,_ it said. _He could find you, he could kill you_ ).

You had no idea what to do with that clashing information other than squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore half of it, slipping a hand between your legs, relishing in the imaginary slide of a tongue up your slit, the stretch of his cock in you, pushing hot and slow as you were held down to your desk. You rolled a couple of fingers over yourself through your panties and _oh_ , that felt so good, you had refused to masturbate at all since what happened and that two week dry spell had left you so sensitive and needy…

You swallowed around the knot of anxiety in your throat and listened for more.

_“Everything about you was just begging me to go rough, to wring every possible reaction and sound I could get out of you in the time I had... Wring all the air from your lungs, too, so you couldn’t ignore me, until all you could think about was my cock in your guts, how it felt to be split wide open on a complete stranger...”_

You stuck your face out of the covers and took a fresh breath to hold it through his sentence as you shimmied a hand under your panties and swirled a finger around your clit, a stifled noise escaping at how it made tingly heat race through your veins like blood. You raised the volume.

 _“And you loved all that, you got so excited, your pulse almost exploded under my palm and you were drooling all over your desk, sweating and arching your back as you faded… so fucking into it…”_ He paused for a few seconds, breath audibly catching in his throat before allowing an exhale to melt into a pleased hum. _“Mmmm, I only wish I could have seen your eyes rolling back, tears clinging to those long lashes… That would’ve been some tasty icing.”_ That last word shuddered on its way out and he laughed quietly. _“You’ve got me leaking like a faucet here, Princess. That’s not very nice of you.”_

An image flickered across your closed eyelids of precum beading along the head of his cock, drawn out from his own teasing. Glinting slightly in whatever sparse light that was in his room, dripping slow to pool on his stomach. He’d pause to drag a finger through it, drawing a wet line up towards his chest before returning his hand to himself, gripping harder and allowing himself to feel a little more. You swallowed again, not wanting to drool.

 _“You made such a hot picture when I was done, all wrecked and blissed out with your cunt this pretty pink color, leaking out my cum ‘cause you were just too little, you couldn't hold all of it… Looked so good I almost wanted to shove my face in there and help clean you up. It’d have tasted nice, both of us mixed together like that...”_ He definitely had a thing for body fluids.

“Fuck,” you whispered aloud, his words washing over you and sending sparks across your nerves. You continued to swear as you pulled down the blanket and shoved up your shirt, the cold air giving you goosebumps. You balanced the phone on your shoulder, freeing a hand to lightly run your nails up your stomach and cup your breast, pulling a nipple between two fingers. You huffed out a breath and arched your back to grind your hips into your other hand, the phone almost slipping out from under your cheek.

 _What am I doing_? You thought dimly to yourself in a last-ditch effort at normalcy, but those worries were getting easier and easier to shove away.

Not like that was a good thing.

_“If I could only have you to myself again, and again, until there isn’t a single inch of you that I haven't explored, inside and out… We could make that a reality. I’ve seen you out in public before, would you say no if I decided to follow you home one day?”_

You opened an eye and paused, unease prickling your skin at how his tone was changing, becoming less suave and more aggressive. Was he being serious…?

 _“Not like you’d ever let me, coward. You couldn't even make yourself answer. Instead you got scared and shut me out, making me do all the dirty work, spoiling you rotten while you sit pretty.”_ He spoke through grit teeth, frustration plain in his phrasing. _“So fucking selfish… But what more can I expect from a princess like you? Maybe I should pay you a visit and teach you some manners, huh?”_ He stopped to let out a low groan, wavering slightly with the motions of his hand. _“Rough you up a little, add some marks to that creamy skin, make you dizzy on adrenaline and push you right to the brink of death, just like last time…”_ A harsh exhale that crackled the speaker. _“Yeah, bet you'd love that, I know I would...”_

He started to laugh (as much as he could in a breathless state) and you blanched as the unease grew. This situation was starting to feel a little too real again. You were reminded of how bad of an idea this was.

But you just couldn’t let go, hyperfocusing on every word and conjuring up the feeling of his lips an inch from your ear, sighing all those promises of filth into them as his hands tugged you down onto his cock, being rough and demanding but not violent, don’t worry, the violence was a fantasy, nothing more-...

Except it wasn’t. You knew from experience that he was dead serious.

You shuddered and tried to ignore that, one hand coming up to hold the phone again as you turned onto your back to slide fingers into your pussy, clenching around them as you pushed to the hilt and rolled them upwards into that one spot that would hopefully make you get this over with as fast as possible, please, please…

_“You may be a selfish bitch but you're still listening, and you wouldn't make it this far in if you weren't into it. I can just picture you, squirming with your fingers pressed between your legs, almost dying from the guilt.”_

You hated that he was right. You panted and arched your back, cussing him out as your hand worked. This was exactly what he had wanted, exactly why he had called, fuck him, what a sick son of a bitch...

“ _Thats it, c’mon… keep touching yourself… bet it feels good, but its not enough, is it?”_ He was starting to have a hard time keeping his words steady. _“Don't you just... wish... your hands were mine? A little bigger… a little rougher… Or maybe you want my mouth, sealed tight around that cute little love button until your cum’s all over the floor and you’re half passed out so you can’t... think about how much you loathe yourself for wanting me so… damn… badly-”_ The way his voice was constantly on the edge of a growl hit a spot that had you hissing loudly through your teeth.

You made a frustrated noise and curled onto your side, hair sticking to your face from sweat. You were so close that it was unbearable, heart hammering out of your chest and muscles sore from the tension. You pressed your palm hard into your clit and jolted from the feeling. Please, let it end. Let it be over.

 _“How would it feel---”_ He kept having to pause to breathe. _“To scratch my skin open while my dick leaves bruises--- right up against your womb? You could kick and scream--- and h-... And hate it all you want, doesn’t--- matter, it'd just make you squeeze tigh---ter--- fuuuck-”_

You heard a loud rustling as if the phone was scraping against something but couldn’t tell anything beyond that because you had shoved your head under the covers again, pressing the blankets into your face and gasping shakily into them as you came, almost unable to draw air through the cloth combined with the tightness in your throat.

 

Time passed as you lay there in an afterglow that felt more like a drug-induced haze. You roused yourself when you heard a steady beeping coming from your discarded phone which meant the message had ended. You peeked from under the blankets and reached for it.

_“If you would like to hear this message again, press one. To return the message sender’s call, press two. To delete, press thr-”_

You tapped weakly at the END CALL button, and stared at the ceiling in the new silence.

It was over. This is what you wanted, right? For it to be over?

You brought your hands up to your face and breathed into them, feeling like absolute shit.

_Go to the police. Please, (Y/N), you have to._

You dragged your fingers over your eyes, tugging down your lower lids in distress.

You already knew you wouldn’t, because he had left an ‘offer’ open, and was waiting for you to take it.

And you wanted beyond all reason to say yes.

The simple, awful truth of that thought hit hard, knocked down the last remaining wall that you had so carefully built around your psyche, and for the first time since the attack, you began to cry.

 

It took you a while to recover. For the next few days, you were too scared to leave your house. You drank too much and slept a lot and listened to that voicemail four more times, masturbating furiously. You suffered panic attacks after every ‘session’, which prompted you to drink to calm down, which made you too depressed to stay awake. Repeat.

Reality marched on though, and you needed to go back to work (and buy food) soon. That motivated you to begin to drag yourself out of that stupor. In a fit of justified paranoia you bought yourself a handheld taser. It felt solid and trustworthy, and gave you some comfort.

...Yet you still didn't call the police.

 

Five days later, you saw him.

You had started physically going back to work, though your energy levels were still low so you usually only stayed there half the day. You were on your way home, and had cozied yourself up in a seat on the subway train, one of the few seats that were left during a period as busy as lunch hour. The train glided to a halt at its first stop and several people got on, leaving a few to use the ceiling handrails as support.

Somebody moved to stand directly in front of you which was quite rude considering you were in the corner seat, and you glanced up.

You two locked eyes in silence, the hazy details of his appearance in your mind coalesced, and ice promptly sheathed itself into your veins.

You knew, and he knew, too.

The train began to move and he kept standing there, kept staring. You fought to erase the fear from your expression and body language. _It’s broad daylight,_ you thought, frantic.   _There are tons of people around, he shouldn't be able to hurt you, it's okay, right?_

But it also _wasn’t_ okay, he was tilting his head and raking those pale eyes over you in a way that was profoundly creepy and it was making you want to scream.

Some far-off portion of your thought process noted that he was really attractive, in a way that someone as vile and predatory as him shouldn’t have been. You squashed that thought away, it wasn't appropriate.

You curled your lip and narrowed your eyes, the adrenaline you were feeling beginning to tick towards the _fight_ end of the spectrum. You were scared to death, yes, but you had been stewing in hatred for a little too long to keep justifying being a rabbit in headlights. You were armed now; you knew what you would do if he tried anything.

He shifted his weight and discreetly leaned onto one foot, placing himself closer. He took his hand out of his pocket and knuckles brushed against your knee, and it was so brief that to anybody not paying attention it would look like an accident.

It wasn’t.

In response you begin to remove your taser from your purse, just enough for him to tell what it is. He blinked in mild surprise, eyebrows raising a little, before a sly grin tugged at his lips and he shifted to press even closer, putting a leg in between your knees to box you in against your seat. Your heart leapt into your throat.

He was pushing the envelope, trying to get you to visibly freak out, and though you were now fighting down panic you refused to let him win. You sat up straighter and took the taser out, pushing it against his thigh in warning, hovering your thumb over the ON button. Your hand was shaking hard.

But to your surprise he heeded the threat and backed off, showing you a few more teeth and winking before retracting his leg.

The train began to slow down, PA speakers _ding_ ing softly to indicate the next stop. Only when people began to move towards the doors did he pull back and exit with no other acknowledgement, and just like that he was gone.

You slumped back against your seat and buried your head in your hands, taking several breaths. That actually _worked_. You couldn’t believe it.

“Miss, was that man bothering you?” You removed a hand to look at the older gentleman sitting across from you, brows knitted in concern as he folded the newspaper he was holding. Bystander effect, of course. He could have intervened a lot sooner.

“Yes, but I’m alright.” You answered, voice uneven.

“Did you know him at all?” The train started up again.

You sat up straight and put the taser back in your purse, almost disappointed that you didn’t get to use it. Something about the idea of him in pain made you feel nice and warm, in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“No.” You lied. “I don’t.”

 

Later, you received an anonymous text message in the form of a single word:

_‘Feisty.’_

 

You sneered in disgust and deleted it, downed a shot of alcohol, then took a long, hot shower to clear your head. While you were in there, your hands started to wander. You thought about being rough with him, about stepping on his junk and kicking him in the ribs and sitting on his face. Grinding the taser into his side as you ride his dick and make him apologise over and over. Wringing his pockets dry in court damages and landing him in prison. Ruining his life just like he ruined yours.

It felt good.

You slept very well that night, panic-free.

 

That weekend you had a couple friends coming in from out-of-town, and you all hung out at a bar close by your house. They had no idea of what happened, and you had no intention of telling them. The only signs of something being off was that you were somewhat quiet, that your smiles had a hard edge you kept having to soften, that you finished your drinks a little too quickly. You excused it to them as work burnout.

 

It was already after midnight, and to your surprise you had a good time, but everyone wanted to go find some place to eat. You weren’t hungry, so you excused yourself saying that you could just Uber home instead. They left.

You should probably stay to finish this glass of spiked lemonade, though, since you had paid for it. You weren’t sure how many drinks you had already, but it was enough to make balancing a little hard when you stood and your thoughts a blurry, fast-moving mess.  

Plenty of thoughts hit you now without the filter of sobriety to go through. You innocently sipped at your straw as you clenched your fist under the table, tighter and tighter.

You didn't think you could keep living like this. The lack of sleep and food and the excess of alcohol was wearing on you _hard_ , so much so that you could feel yourself slipping, but you couldn't stop. Your work on the files was getting more incoherent and messy and your sleep schedule was getting more erratic and were constantly fighting back panic any time you set foot in public because even though he wasn't there, you could just _feel_ him following you. You could just _feel_ him lurking behind every mirror. Every door, especially yours. And here you were, taking your sweet-ass time in getting the authorities because he had somehow convinced you that you wanted sex from him.

Abrupt, white-hot hatred seared within your chest and you gnashed your teeth. That wasn't true, it was the opposite. You weren't the one who thoroughly violated someone's body simply because you “couldn't help yourself.” You weren't the one who afterwards called and left a disgusting voicemail practically _begging_ that someone to fuck you. You weren't the desperate one, _he_ was.

You liked that conclusion. It felt good, warm.

You moved the straw around in your mouth and bounced your leg, finding that you had some restless energy. Maybe you should make him aware of that.

You stood up and your legs carried you into the girl’s bathroom, relieved to find it empty. You scrolled through your call history and clicked his number, heart thudding out of your chest as you listened to it ring. You heard a _click_ of the line being opened, and the alcohol made you talk before you could stop yourself:

“You wanna fuck me so badly, you desperate piece of shit? Fine. You’re going to come _alone_ to Johnny’s Bar at Behringer and 16th. We’ll take a taxi to a hotel of _my_ choice, and you’re paying for both. If you bring any sort of weapon or try anything funny _I'm going to fucking kill you_.”

There was a good four to five seconds of stunned silence from the other end, and your hand began to shake with nerves.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he burst out laughing. What a fucking psycho.

“Shut up,” you hissed, a flush creeping across your face. “ _Shut the hell up.”_

“Glad to hear from you too, Princess.” He answered, sounding deeply amused. “You’re slurring your words a little. What drink are you on now, your fifth?”

You wanted to strangle him. “Did you even _listen_ to me?!”

“I did.” His tone was now dead-serious, the difference so sudden that you almost reeled back. You blinked rapidly, finding yourself at a loss for words.

“Uh-...” You stammered out, but you were interrupted by a _click_ as he hung up.

You stayed there listening to nothing, the realization of what you just did beginning to sink in. The cogs in your ethanol-soaked head took far too long to turn, felt far too sluggish.

His reaction kept making your skin crawl in the worst possible way. _Shit,_ you thought. _This was a bad idea._

Maybe…?

Still somewhat stunned at your own actions, you walked out of the bathroom and sat at your empty table, staring hazily into your drink, now watered down with ice. You chugged the rest of it and shook out your wrists. Screw nerves, you can do this. You've spent long enough agonizing, long enough in pain. You needed closure.

...Right?

The minutes ticked by as you wrestled with your feelings. You kept thinking back to that phone call, and that little voice in your head telling you to _leave_ slowly grew louder. You were running out of time. You needed to make a decision, now.

You stood up and tried to extract yourself from the booth, but after having to catch yourself on the edge of the table, you sat back down, eyes wide.

You were so drunk that you couldn't even walk. You were locked into this now, not even sober to boot.

You put your head in your hands and waited.


End file.
